


I Swear This Time I Mean It

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Amnesia!Calum, Childhood Sweethearts, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Teen Angst, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:23:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Luke kind of loves Calum but Calum likes girls and just when Luke finally pulls the guy out of the closet, one accident has Calum running back in.</p>
<p>Or:</p>
<p>Calum gets in an accident and acquires amnesia. His boyfriend's pretty damn torn about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> hey mtv and welcome to my crib! real talk, thanks for checking this out. this first chapter's more of a set up than anything else, so it'll probably pick up pretty quickly within the next few chapters. regardless, i hope you enjoy it anyway, and please feel free to give feedback if you dig it (:

When Luke was five and Calum was six, Luke knew that they’d be best friends forever. Calum had this way about him-- a silly, light hearted manner that Luke simply loved to be around. It made him happy, to be around someone that could so easily be lost in fiction and laughter. Calum liked him too, luckily, and Luke spent a lot of his time with him. Together.

It was the era of scraped knees and ninja turtle band aids. Calum and Luke created adventures to space in Calum's backyard (Mali came too; every spaceship needed a command center on earth), and by the time the sun set, they were already huddled together underneath a makeshift fort of Calum's sheets. Then, they were a couple of boys sharing in hyperbole. A couple of friends.

When Luke was eleven and Calum was eleven, Luke thought maybe he liked Calum as more than a friend. It was just that sometimes, Calum grinned at him this way that had Luke dreaming of it late at night when he should have been sleeping. Calum was fucking radiant. Luke loved it too. Maybe he loved Calum.

But that was when Calum found himself falling for a girl in their grade. She had dark hair and cute dimples and-- and Luke wanted to hate her because she quickly became the only topic of discussion between him and his best friend, but he couldn't. She was nice, and so was Calum.

Calum liked girls at thirteen, and so did Luke. Rather, Luke tried to like girls. Luke had flings, had fleeting kisses and awkward dates, but he still found himself thinking of spending time with Calum. Only Calum. He couldn't help but be jealous when Calum came to him with red cheeks and that grin that was supposed to be strictly for Luke when he had his first kiss. He wanted to tell the boy that maybe they should try being more than friends then, but Calum liked girls. So Luke did too.

When Luke was seventeen and Calum was eighteen, Calum had grown keen on frequenting the party scene. Luke did too; he liked not having the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He liked being able to let go, to share a spliff with Calum and let himself believe that their lips would be closer to touching someday. To have his lips where Calum's once were... Luke liked that.

It was late June, and Luke was set to spend a night or two at Calum's while the elder's parents were away. Luke's mom didn't know that, of course, and Luke intended to keep it that way. He intended to stay on her good side for the sake of not being grounded for the rest of his life.

"This is good shit, Luke, trust me," Calum had said as he pulled out a small baggy.

Luke had shrugged, because of course he trusted Calum. But he couldn't say that, obviously. That'd be weird for a couple of bros, and that's what they are. So avoidance was key. "Who'd you get it from this time?"

"Michael," Calum answered.

"Of course."

Calum flashed him a signature grin and, honestly, Luke might as well have been already gone. “He knows where to find quality weed,” Calum countered, already reading the disdain on Luke’s face. It wasn’t like Luke didn’t like Michael, but if he had the choice to save Michael from a burning building, he’d probably roast marshmallows. But Calum seemed to push this to the side, opting to crush and roll the pot expertly. “Puff, puff, pass, dude.”

It wasn’t long before Luke was sprawled out on the floor with grey-white smoke filling Calum’s room. The darker boy himself had his head resting on Luke’s stomach — making a friendly, dude T that Luke was still giggling about as he passed on the joint to Calum’s waiting fingers.

“You know what’s weird?” the older asked with his exhale— smoke clouding the air just above his features.

“Twinkies,” Luke automatically replied with. Twinkies, while weird as Luke recently decided, still sound so damn good and… And fuck, he wants a goddamn Twinkie in his mouth. Maybe Calum would—

“We’re practically kissing,” Calum finished.

So not Twinkies.

“What?”

Calum sighed, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows. Deep brown eyes were surrounded by pink, matching the soft color brushing his cheeks and lips. If Luke were more brave, maybe he’d lean up himself and kiss him.

“We’re sharing a joint,” Calum explained, like this were the most obvious thing in the world (Luke was almost expecting a “duh, Luke” to follow, so he was more than surprised when it didn’t). “Your lips were on it and my lips were too. Kissing.”

Luke was silent. He felt his eyebrows furrowing softly as he looked over Calum’s matter-of-fact attitude. And he might have been high, but he was pretty sure he knew how kissing worked to the average teenager. That wasn’t it. Still, he liked the prospect of kissing Calum the way non-high teenaged bros did. Because when two totally non-gay bros have been friends for a while, there was bound to be a couple lip-locking moments. Luke was pretty sure he read it somewhere.

“Why’s that weird?” he asked instead.

Calum shrugged, “Because I like girls.”

Luke should’ve left it at that, asked for a Twinkie or something to occupy his mouth from saying anything relatively stupid. “Are you sure?”

The question had Calum pausing, staring at the white screen-printed logo on Luke’s shirt. Luke was almost ready to apologize for asking something so fucking weird when Calum shrugged again. He met Luke’s eyes this time.

Luke knew Calum. He knew that Calum was still afraid of drop bears and spiders and sometimes the dark when it was storming outside. He knew that Calum’s passions included seeing his name in lights — whether it be for soccer or music. He knew that Calum had this one microscopic scar on the back of his knee that he got when they got drunk at sixteen and Luke dared him to shave his already aerodynamic legs. Luke knew his best friend like he knew himself.

But then Calum was hovering over Luke, lips almost touching like Luke’s dreamt of for so many years now, and nothing could have prepared him for that. Calum was hot in the most literal way. His body was covering Luke’s, and Luke was sure that he was going to either go into cardiac arrest or sweat himself a new ocean. His heat was partially due to the fact that Calum was there, close enough to kiss and, god, Luke wanted to.

Calum did it first. He leaned in slowly, pressing his lips against Luke’s. Soft and sweet, their first kiss was everything Luke hoped it to be. It left him breathless when Calum pulled back with a shake of his head.

“No.”


	2. Long Way Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen i wanted a little cute before it all went to hell sue me

Calum has an affinity for leaving marks. Luke originally thought that tendency would have faded after the honeymoon phase of their relationship did, but at twenty now, Calum’s still marking Luke’s skin with red-violet love bites nearly weekly. It’s been over a year since the two started dating, and Luke’s so fucking happy he could cry.

They’ve come a long way, Luke thinks, especially when he considers where they started. It took two weeks for Calum to speak to him again after the kiss they shared on Calum’s bedroom floor. He was pretty freaked about it, and Luke understood. When all Calum knew was to like girls, liking Luke was something he probably had to get used to. But when all Luke knew was to like Calum, those two weeks became the longest two weeks Luke ever had.

It was a month after that when they finally got together. Luke asked Calum first. And while it wasn’t the most romantic or Hollywood-type of presentation (because apparently asking someone to be your boyfriend after a curse-filled game of Call of Duty at 3 AM isn’t romantic. Whatever, Michael.), Calum said yes anyway.

“Luke, I can’t get dressed if you’re hanging onto me like this.”

And that makes Luke giggle against Calum’s shoulder because that’s the point. It’s nearly nine in the morning and Calum’s desperately trying to pull clothes out of the drawers and still make it on time for work but… Luke’s kind of a bad influence and maybe wants him to stay. Maybe.

“That’s not a bad thing,” he mumbles into Calum’s skin.

“It is if you’re already late.” Luke can’t see the smile and fond eye roll, but he doesn’t need to see it to know it’s there. He hears it in Calum’s voice— how he almost sounds frustrated, and would succeed in doing so if Luke didn’t know him so well. It makes his smile grow further and Luke’s pretty sure his face is going to break if he continues to smile like this.

“It’s not my fault I woke up wanting to kiss you,” Luke counters in a whine. “You’re the one that initiated the morning sex.”

Calum tenses with a shake of his head like he’s holding in a laugh. Luke’s already won this argument. He knows, but he’s just waiting for Calum to catch on too. Calum turns, having temporarily given up on trying to get dressed in favor for holding his boyfriend in his arms.

“Yes,” he says, “it is.” His hands slip to Luke’s ass, giving him a cheeky squeeze. “You getting fucked this morning is all your fault. Now if you please—” he pulls his hands off, instead opting to lift Luke over his shoulder to toss back onto their bed as Luke squeals— “stay there and let me get dressed, asshole.”

And Luke does. He watches as Calum steps into his boxers and pants and slips on a shirt before grabbing his keys at the top of the dresser. He likes the way Calum moves. Calum’s always been the one with grace — all those years of soccer must’ve done something for him since Luke’s still tripping over air. But Luke likes watching the way his muscles flex as he dresses himself. He likes watching Calum like this.

“I’ve got a shorter day today,” Calum calls as he slips his phone into his pocket. He turns, moving to the bed once more to lean over and kiss his boyfriend. “I’ll try and make it back in time for that dinner you’ve been planning, yeah?”

Luke nods, stretching his neck for another kiss that Calum gladly gives him. “Love you, Cal.”

And Calum grins. Luke thinks he looks exactly like he did when they were kids; it’s that grin that had Luke hooked from day one. It’s Calum. “I love you too, Lukey.”

 

* * *

Luke’s spent hours in the kitchen. He’s made rolls and really good goddamn pasta and he’s set the table and popped a bottle of wine that Luke’s definite gotten into because— because Calum’s late. It’s not normally such a big deal; Calum works hard and he’s late a lot more frequently than they both would like, but Calum’s never late without a call or text saying so.

But Luke hasn’t heard a thing from Calum since lunchtime. He figures Calum’s just busy as he often is, and forgot to let Luke know that he’d be late. That has to be it— because Calum wouldn’t just blow him off like this, right? Not unless it’s something really important?

Luke doesn’t even think he’s mad at this, but when his phone rings, he’s just ready to tell Calum off about how he slaved over this goddamn meal for his boyfriend to enjoy and said boyfriend didn’t have the decency to call and tell him he wouldn’t make it, which left him waiting stupidly with a glass of wine slowly diminishing in his hand..

His thumb slams on the answer button on his phone before he whips it up to his ear. “Where the fu—”

“Luke! Listen, you need to come to the hospital right now.”

It’s Ashton’s voice that fills his ear instead. Pausing, he’s silent as his mind catches up to him. Ashton really only calls when something exciting is happening— like the time Michael kissed him for the first time a few months ago (Ashton, of course, was nearly squealing as he recounted the story to Luke, who promptly put him on speakerphone for Calum to hear too), or when Harry graduated grade school. He’s always happy.

Luke doesn’t like the distress in his voice. He doesn’t like the crack in it that says he’s been crying.

“Ash? What’re you— why the hospital?”

There’s a deep breath on the other line, and he can hear Michael cooing a soft, “Tell him, Ash,” in a shaky timber. Maybe it’s Harry or Lauren— they probably hurt themselves somehow and Ashton’s always been overprotective of them from the start. Or maybe it’s Anne? Maybe she—

“It’s Calum.”


	3. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if we were to compare this chapter's hurt to a circle of hell, it'd only be the first circle. we're barely getting started ((:

When Luke as fourteen and Calum was fifteen, Calum was hospitalized for some injury he retained during a soccer tournament. He was gutted, Luke remembers, mainly because he had to sit out for the rest of the season, and Luke was gutted too because Calum hated hospitals.

Ashton was sobbing by the time Luke reached them in the intensive care unit waiting room. Michael had the boy in his arms with red eyes and raw-bitten lips, fingers raking through honey-colored curls in a desperate attempt to soothe him. Michael said that Calum got into an accident a little while ago, and with his emergency contact Mali-Koa out of town, Michael and Ashton were one of the firsts to be contacted by the girl to be there for her brother.

So now he’s here. The chair he’s sitting on in Calum’s room is hard, and the air is far too cold to ever be comfortable if one isn’t comatose or rushing around to get to the next patient. Luke is neither, and he feels like he’s suffocating in the chilled air as he waits, for the second week, for Calum to be drawn out of his medicated state long enough to have a conversation with. He hasn’t talked to Calum in over a week. He hasn’t heard that boy’s voice in over a week, and it’s quickly killing Luke, he’s sure of it.

The marks on Luke’s neck and collarbone are nearly gone now. But still, he insists on pressing his fingertips against them and agitating the skin to make them last a little longer. Calum can’t replace the fading love bites anymore, and Luke’s hanging onto every little thing he can — while he can. He wonders if Calum will remember making them or even what they are, the latter of which would be a miracle in of itself.

He hopes he does. Luke hopes he remembers dragging his teeth along Luke’s neck and humming when he earns a soft whimper from him. Luke hopes he remembers the breathless promises they made to each other— that they’d be together long enough to get a dog or three, get a house with a cliche white picket fence because that’s what people in love do. Luke really hopes he remembers that he loves Luke, because all Luke ever wants is his love.

The doctor says it’s retrograde amnesia. The damage is hard to estimate from the few interactions the nurses have had with him between drug-induced sleeps, but they’re saying it’s harder on the victim than anyone else, and to not reveal too much information at once to make it easier on them. And that’s all, as if Luke didn’t already fucking know that.

But there he sits, faithfully at Calum’s bedside, holding his scabbed and bruised hand, waiting for the only boy he’s ever loved to wake up. What hurts the most (other than the fact that whether or not his boyfriend got into this mess because he was trying to hurry home back to him), is that when Calum does wake up, he might not even remember Luke at all.

Calum’s pivotal, though. It’s like Luke’s a rowboat lost in the unforgiving, dark waves and Calum’s the lighthouse. It’s like Luke’s been lost at sea for years and Calum’s the warmth of his bed to welcome him home— finally, truly, home.

Calum’s everything.

“Luke?”

Calum’s voice is so painfully soft, Luke almost doesn’t hear it above the sound of the machines keeping him alive. Luke’s body moves on its own though. He sits up, eyes immediately searching for Calum’s for any sort of confirmation that this is real, that his Calum’s alive.

Relief floods through him as soft brown eyes stare back at him. “I’m here,” he says, voice cracking and, dammit, he’s not going to cry. “I’m here, Cal.”

Calum nods slowly, brows furrowing when the movement is pained. “What happened?”

Luke sucks in a breath, already feeling tears pricking his eyes. How’s he supposed to explain all this on his own? “There was an accident, Cally— you… You got into an accident.”

He nods again, this time whimpering as he does so. Luke has to stop himself from whimpering at the sound too. Between the two of them, Calum’s always been stronger than Luke. He can’t even imagine how much it hurts. So Luke tears his eyes off of Calum for a moment, fingers of his free hand pressing the nurse call button the doctor told him to use in case Calum woke up. That was also when the doctor told him about the brain damage. Luke knows he has to find out the extent of it too. He just doesn’t know how.

“Hurts, Luke,” he whines.

Calum hasn’t been like this since the injury he sustained before the big soccer tournament. Luke understands the little whimpers falling from his pink lips. Calum sounded like this at fifteen too. He just hopes the rest of his mind isn’t fifteen again.

“I-I know, Cally, I’m— I’m gonna make it better, okay? Just h-hang on.” He offers a smile to the boy, thumb running over their clasped hands, trying to soothe anything he can. “The nurse is going to come by a-and give you some medicine to help it stop.”

Luke’s head dips, lips brushing against the back of Calum’s hand so Calum doesn’t have to move on his own. But he does anyway. Calum’s hand pulls back, losing all contact with Luke. That hurts more than it should.

“Don’t do that,” he mumbles. “It’s _gay_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I start school in about two-ish weeks, so I'm going to do my best to update as much as I can before then since I don't know how my first year of university's going to be. but please still let me know how you're liking this fic; it boosts my ego and makes me smile stupidly to myself in public((:


	4. Haunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowee it's been so long since I've updated this. I'm sorry I've been sucky; college has been keeping me busy! this update is also less than spectacular, but you have to pregame before you party, right? I'll be updating as soon as I can from now on. they might be shorter, but an update's an update, right?

“It’s what?”

Luke knows exactly what Calum’s said, but asks anyway. He hopes it’s a lapse that his exhausted mind has created or maybe he’s misheard. But the second Calum opens up his mouth to speak again, he knows it’s real.

“It’s fucking gay.”

It’s not even what he says, but how he says it. The slight scrunch of his nose to accompany the way his eyebrows are furrowed together in a way Luke can only describe as disgust— Luke’s certain that nothing hurts more than the look on Calum’s face in that moment. He has to step away, create distance like he’s touched a hot stove and with the way those words burns him from the inside out, he guesses he has. Pale, shaking fingers grasp to the hem of his shirt and he can only stare.

“What’s wrong with that?” Luke asks. His voice almost cracks with the last syllable, but he manages to catch it. He’ll let himself be proud of that later.

Calum raises an eyebrow at the question. “I’m not gay, Luke.”

Luke was wrong. _Those_ words hurt more than anything.

Disregarding that Luke was only trying to comfort Calum and was completely shot down, it’s like all the time they’ve spent together as a couple is forgotten. That morning, when Calum said he loved Luke is just… _Gone_. Their first kiss, the one they shared underneath smoke with matching red eyes, is gone too. The month they showered together because they made a bet with Michael and Ashton that it wouldn’t have made a difference on their water bill is gone too. All the soft-spoken promises of seeing Paris someday together and visiting a brothel in Canada just for shits and giggles— forgotten.

Because Calum isn’t gay.

And all Luke can do is sit there in the chair he’s found home in for the past two weeks while Calum’s in here in hopes of being the first thing Calum remembers, and fucking stare. This can’t be real, Luke tells himself, because there’s no way anyone can forget a love like theirs. But Calum’s looking at him like he did when they were sixteen and fuck, this is real.

“Oh,” Luke croaks out, “sorry.” Pale fingers tug on the hem of his shirt nervously as he tries his best to process any of this. It’s like a car crash, the way his heart breaks as Calum continues to look at him. It hurts more than the time Luke slipped out of a tree and had to live in a cast on his ankle for three months because didn’t want Calum to slow down when they walked to school together.

And he needs to leave. He has to before he cries in front of Calum again. Calum’s seen him cry more times than he’d like to admit, but this isn’t the Calum that would hold him until the hurting stopped. This is the Calum that would punch his arm and tell him to grow a pair. This isn’t his Calum anymore.

Luke can only thank god when the nurse walks in and tells him to leave so she can give Calum his medicine. The air’s suffocatingly cold in the hallway. The tiles gleam white and blue and the longer Luke stares at them, the longer he’s sure he’s going to cover it with his stomach contents. He can feel it — rising from his stomach and burning every bit of his esophagus on its way up.

But it doesn’t hurt. Luke’s actually not sure what he feels now that Calum doesn’t remember what they have… Or had. Maybe he doesn’t feel anything at all as he shakily dials Michael’s number — the first one that makes sense in his mind.

“Luke?”

“He d-d-doesn’t remember, M-Mike, h-he—”

“Lucas!”

“H-he’s straight,” Luke sobs, “Calum’s straight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also working on another work that I'm super excited about so be on the lookout for that coming soon(:


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